


Mend My Soul

by TheGirlWithBrightEyes



Series: Fragments of Life [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Fire, Forehead Kisses, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hugs, Kissing, Love, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychedelic, Window of the Soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 00:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19936738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithBrightEyes/pseuds/TheGirlWithBrightEyes
Summary: Crowley has finally braved the ether - the window to his Soul - and found it still in ruins after Armageddon. He needs Aziraphale's help.





	Mend My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Very heavy pictorial angst here but it is needed to bring our favourite couple closer.
> 
> I used some personal experiences for this: even if you think you are feeling a lot better, you can still have a very long way to go. Crowley's had eleven years of stress wearing him thin and all his love for Aziraphale and nowhere to put it. And yes, he is much better now that some months prior but he still has a lot of work to do. And he can't do it alone.

Since the passing of Armageddon Aziraphale had thought it would be hard for him to be out of job, to no longer have a purpose and while it was difficult to stop thinking what Heaven would think - and Hell for that matter - he'd been pouring so much of his time into Crowley he still had a purpose. Not really a job, but a purpose. And it felt like it was going well taking care of him, Crowley's outbursts were few and far between now, several months after the day the World almost ended. His nights were also calmer with few nightmares. That's why it came as a surprise when he got back to Crowley's flat one evening to find him sitting on the staircase in the hall, cradling his head, waiting.

"Crowley?" he'd beelined for him without bothering to take his coat off. He fell to his knees in front of the demon, gently taking his wrists. "My love, what's wrong?" Crowley sucked in a breath between teeth that were gritted before he lifted his head as if it weight too much. The look on his face made Aziraphale's heart stop in his chest: it was utter defeat. "Crowley...?"he whispered, now desperately worried.

"I need your help," Crowley managed, voice cracking. "I-I thought I could handle it but..."he faded, swallowing hard. Aziraphale switched his grip to hold his hands.

"Anything. I'll do anything, you know that. I'm here for you, my love," Aziraphale ran his thumbs over Crowley's knuckles. "What happened?" Crowley tried to speak several times but failed then made a face, dropping his head down so his forehead rested on Aziraphale's hands.

"I went into my part of the ether..."he whispered with a shudder, sounding terrified. Aziraphale's jaw dropped. The ether. For all angels - fallen or not - the ether, also called the window to the timeless place that fuelled the soul, was available for them to enter. It was a sanctuary. If Crowley had gone there and this was the result... He rose up to wrap his arms around Crowley and the demon clung to him, his fingers digging into his back so hard it hurt. He'd endure. What else could he do?

"Just let me get my coat off and I'll try to help, any way I can," Aziraphale whispered. "Take me there." He could feel Crowley nod against his shoulder but he didn't say anything, just reluctantly released his death grip. To bring someone to your part of the ether was an act of absolute trust. To allow someone to see such a personal thing made you vulnerable. It was the most intimate thing an angel could possibly do.

Aziraphale just wished the circumstances were better.

Once he'd gotten his outer wear off, Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and helped him up from the stairs and led him up to the upper floor, into the bedroom they shared each night. Crowley let him in a resigned sort of way that was deeply worrying. Aziraphale made him get up on the bed and put his head on the angel lap, gently caressing his cheeks. He was pale.

"Are you ready?" Aziraphale said softly and Crowley closed his eyes, his brow furrowing.

"No," he whispered, speaking easier with no eye contact involved. "But I must. I-I avoided my ether...hoped it would heal...but it hasn't. It's a ruin, Aziraphale," he choked slightly. "And I don't know what to do." Aziraphale's heart bled for him and he nodded, although Crowley couldn't see it. He leaned down and kissed Crowley's forehead gently.

"Sometimes it takes time, Crowley," he said softly, heart aching that Crowley would call his ether a ruin. The demon's eyes opened. He looked heartbroken.

"Not this," he said. "I can't do this on my own. It's...it's too much..."

"You don't have to heal it on your own," Aziraphale said gently, fighting to keep the tremor of worry out of his voice. "I'm here. I'll always be here." Crowley let out a deep breath and fumbled for Aziraphale's hands, pressing them to his temples. Aziraphale could feel the sensation of entering the ether - it was a lot like falling. When his feet found ground, the full force of Crowley's ether punched him in the gut, knocking the breath out of him and he lurched, the scents in the air so strong he'd have been sick if this was the real world.

It was not. It was worse. This was the world inside Crowley's soul, what kept him going and as Aziraphale looked around, the word 'ruin' paled in comparison...

They were standing on a thin line of grass before a chasm that plunged into a boiling yellow sea smelling strongly of sulphur. The sky was red as if on fire. A remnant of Crowley's Fall. But the worst thing was behind them. Aziraphale knew before he even saw it and he had to gather all his strength to turn. His back to the chasm he faced his bookshop. Or rather, the bookshop of Crowley's nightmares... The entire building had cracked down the middle, every window shattered and melted, the whole thing a hollowed out corpse with glowing embers still inside. The doors hung off hinges, broken. Aziraphale felt panic welling up inside him from seeing this and had to remind himself that this was Crowley's inner image - not the bookshop itself.

"Oh Crowley," he whispered, looking at the demon beside him. Crowley gazed back, somehow beyond tears. Aziraphale reached out to him, grasped his hand and held it. Crowley sniffed, then nodded with clenched teeth and started walking, pulling Aziraphale with him inside the bookshop. The scent inside was horrible. It smelled of leather, wood and fabrics that had burned and been doused with water. Water was everywhere, making the floor slippery. The roof was cracked open to the sky, Heaven's light shining down at the centre. Below it was a pit, the floor broken. Aziraphale could not see the bottom of the pit, but felt the heat of Hellfire and the smell of sulphur. Everywhere he looked lay ruins, here and there with greenery growing, trying to bring some life back to this horrible place. They were pitiful, but they existed. The fruits of Crowley's desperate attempts to cope during the months gone by. The only thing that was not destroyed a small table further into the shop. On it stood a candle burning, a hot cup of tea in flowery pottery, smoke twirling and there lay an open book, still being written.

The tiny table was the only thing that still kept Crowley going. A small flame, Aziraphale and their story unfolding day by day. He couldn't understand how Crowley could bear it.

And he didn't know how to make it better.

He turned to Crowley and reached for him, enveloping him in his embrace, just holding him. He could feel Crowley shiver as he brought his arms up to answer him, his hands finding the way around his back.

"How can I even fix this...?"Crowley whispered brokenly and Aziraphale shifted, his cheek against Crowley's. He could clearly hear his erratic breathing, the panic he was feeling. It all became too real in this place because it _was_ real - it was a reflection of Crowley's feelings.

"I think..."Aziraphale licked his lips, then moved back to look at Crowley, threading delicately. "Maybe what you need is to replace it. This...may be beyond repair." As he said it, he knew it was true. There was no way this could be repaired...it was broken far beyond it. All they could do was level it and replace it. But they couldn't just tear it down... this place, Aziraphale realised, had been Crowley's sanctuary. The bookshop had been more of a home than the flat had ever been and he knew why: because he had been there. And when suddenly he wasn't anymore...this was the result. The bookshop was no longer a home, it was the shell of a broken trust. A broken heart.

"You need a new home. A new sanctuary," Aziraphale said softly, his hands coming up to cup Crowley's face. The demon looked back in confusion. His hands came up to Aziraphale's wrists.

"A new home?" he said hesitatingly and the angel nodded. He knew that there was no way for him to make Crowley love the bookshop again. He was too hurt. It was too late. It would always be this corpse to him, overgrown with grass and flowers if given time but it would never be whole again.

"I think it's time for us to move on. Soho holds too many bad memories for you," Aziraphale said softly, melancholic over the thought of abandoning the house in Soho but he knew it was time. "Let's find somewhere new, together this time. Is that all right?" Beneath them the ground rumbled and shook slightly as the words sunk in.

"Together," Crowley said, even more confused. "But...you'd leave your bookshop behind..."Another tremor beneath their feet. Some dust fell from the broken ceiling. Aziraphale smiled softly and leaned over to kiss Crowley gently. The demon sighed, the candle growing brighter.

"I've had it a long time. And really, my home is no longer there. It's with you," he said, and the air shuddered around them. More flowers grew from the debris, splashes of colours in the blackness. "Anywhere I go, you are my home."

Crowley gazed at him, trying desperately to process this. The bookshop was not unaffected, it trembled, new cracks building up but from them sprung more greenery. Grass, wines and tiny white flowers. Then a chink of china caught Aziraphale's attention, and a second cup and joined his on the table, which seemed to have grown slightly larger. He smiled softly.

"I love you so much, Crowley," he whispered and Crowley's eyes were bright, close to tears. The demon reached out a spindly hand and laced it into Aziraphale's hair, bringing their foreheads together.

"And I love you...more than you will ever know," he whispered, the words barely audible. Even after all this time, it was still difficult for him to say. "I think...I'd like to move on...with you," he finally managed, thumb gently caressing the back of Aziraphale's head.

"Then we will, my love," Aziraphale said, smiling back at him. "Anywhere you like. It could be somewhere we can see the stars." The effect of his words was dramatic. There was a great rumble as the roof split open and darkness fell around them, the only light the steady flame on the table. They could no longer see the ruined bookshop, it was all in shadow, above them the sky was littered with stars.

"I'd...like that," Crowley murmured and Aziraphale chuckled lightly. The ether had already revealed how much Crowley liked the idea. Aziraphale sighed, meeting Crowley's lips in a lingering kiss. The demon sighed softly and Aziraphale could hear the rustle of growth around them although he could no longer see it.

"You could have a garden," he breathed against Crowley's lips and felt him smile, finally. It was a great relief.

"Yesss," he whispered and Aziraphale started slightly as there was a groan of wood and a loud thump of bricks falling over, sliding across the wet floor. Aziraphale glanced at the side.

"Was that a tree?" he asked and felt more than heard Crowley chuckle.

"Maybe?" he said, the teasing tone such a relief that Aziraphale almost cried. Giving Crowley a dream had helped, this place of desolate ruin was already changing. "Let's go back, angel," he said softly and the world around them faded, returning them to the bedroom. The falling sensation returned briefly before they were back sitting on the bed, Crowley's head on Aziraphale's lap.

"Thank you," Crowley said gently, with such sincerity Aziraphale didn't doubt it for a moment. Aziraphale smiled, his love warm in his chest.

"Anything for you, my love," he said tenderly, leaning down to kiss Crowley again. This time the demon returned it, his fingers finding the angel's neck, pulling him into it. It was the longest kiss they had ever shared, a lingering of lips against lips, breath mingling, tongues tentatively touching ever so slightly. The thrill sent goose bumps over Aziraphale's skin, little jolts heating him up, pooling in his groin like a flower. When Crowley released him, they were both slightly out of breath.

"Hold me?" he whispered, and Aziraphale complied without further though. He slid down to wrap his arms around Crowley, pressing the lengths of their bodies together. He could feel Crowley shudder slightly from the hardness of his Effort against him but they did not speak of it. There was no need. Crowley knew Aziraphale wanted him, and Aziraphale knew Crowley was not ready yet. Even more so now after what he had seen in the ether.

"Let us find a place in the country," Aziraphale whispered close to Crowley ear. "A new home for you and me, together." Crowley sighed, relaxing against him.

"Somewhere we can see the stars."


End file.
